Danny was holding a booth open. Art pushed his way through the crowd and slid in beside him.
"You're late," said Danny. "What happened?"
"The old lady stayed up to watch the eleven o'clock news. I had to wait until she was in bed."
"Well, it's a good thing you made it. We were about ready to take off without you. Come on, Flip; let's move out."
"Just a minute, Danny."
"Yeah?" The boy paused, half-risen out of his seat. After staring at Johnson's face, he sat back down again. "What is it, Art boy?"
"The deal's off. I'm cutting out."
"What?" He shook his head in disbelief. "You crazy man?"
"No. That's why I'm cutting out." He sighed. "I didn't like this deal from the word go. You knew that."
"Yeah. But I never thought you'd go chicken on us, Art boy. Not on old Danny. That's me, remember? Danny Grissome. What I say, goes. Anything I say goes. Right, Flip?"